Orion: Shooting Star
by Orion The Free
Summary: Well the South-East, a little talked about area of the post-war United States. Orion, a man haunted by his past, or more accurately, haunted by his non-existant past. Follow Orion down a path filled with twists and turns. Rated M for a lot of reasons.
1. Chapter 1

Orion: Shooting Star

_"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man." –George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

Chapter 1: Unstable Foundations

The glass was warm, which is not to say that it was unexpected, he was after all, in the middle of a hellish wasteland that was teeming with giant bugs, mutant humans, and radiation. Just another day in paradise. Orion picked up his glass of non-radioactive water (or so the barkeep said) and took a small sip from it. It wasn't that he need to drink anymore water today, or waste money on it, but he felt the need to congratulate himself on the completion of his latest job; which paid very well. Yes, Orion looked forward for working for Corrotto again.

Corrotto, there was a name that was synonymous with greed, power, and violence. In short, he was a mobster, or at least what would pass as one around here. He did what one would think of a wealthy mobster doing. He ordered all his underlings to run around town extorting shop owners and cracking skulls where need be to secure his foothold of power. Recently there was an election going on in Bucket Town. Corrotto saw it as a very good business opportunity and decided to run. As a result he stepped up employment. Orion was fortunate to have found employ with so many other people gunning for the positions. His jobs were simple, easy, and as he recently discovered, compensated more than well enough. While Orion didn't necessarily agree with Corrotto's methods he knew what he had to do to survive, which was what it was all about… wasn't it?

He banished the thought from his head, he knew that thoughts like that were what turned sensible men making a living as a merc or bounty hunter into heroes… and heroes never live. He turned his thoughts to a book that he had acquired from the man he had to 'dispose' of on his last job. An elderly man who had been conspiring against Corrotto in the election. One of the other lesser candidates were trying to boost their status by taking down the crime lord. He was dealt with by another of Corrotto's goon squads. One less problem for Corrotto, one more book for Orion. He turned the book on its side and glanced over the spine "_The Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe._" Orion had never heard of any Edgar Allan Poe, he did however know what 'Collected Works' meant. Oddly enough Orion enjoyed a bit of light reading whenever he could get around to it, poetry, fiction, speculative philosophy (which was to say, **all** of it), he'd read many different things. However most pre-war books he found were in general disrepair and more than often half the text would be ruined beyond comprehension. This book however, was another matter. Orion briefly flipped through the pages and found that it was mostly intact, a few pages missing, some minor water damage to a few more, overall one of the most intact books he had ever seen. He turned to a random poem within the book, the first thing he was the poem "_A Dream Within A Dream_."

_Take this kiss upon the brow!  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow --  
You are not wrong, who deem  
That my days have been a dream;  
Yet if hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less __gone__?  
__All__ that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream.__One__ from the pitiless wave?  
Is __all__ that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?_

I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand --  
How few! yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep -- while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save

Orion closed the book and set it on the table. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "_Is_ _all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?_" Orion repeated the question over again in his head, curious as to its meaning… other than the obvious. "_I bet you wish this was a dream."_ An echoing and condescending voice chimed in. In Orion could have expressed a heavy sigh mentally he would have. He had recently begun hearing a voice in his head. He found it odd that other than the voice he seemed completely normal, he just chalked it up to previously unknown brain damage from his bought with radiation poisoning as a young(er) lad. He could easily add it to the list that included his occasionally blurry vision and his body's susceptibility to injury. Of course it wasn't the voice that he found odd, it was the fact that he was handling it so well. "_What do you want?" _that and that he was responding to the voice… in his head.

"_Ah, so you are still there. I thought you had forgotten all about me."_ From what conversation he had had with the strange voice he had so far decided that the voice was nothing more than a total ass.

"_That still does not answer my question."_ Orion knew that in all likelihood the voice wouldn't tell him its purpose or anything else about itself. He expected nothing more than utter contempt and unnecessary insults from the voice… unless that was its purpose.

"_That it does not. I see you are not as stupid as I thought you were. Speaking of which, why don't you put the book away and forget it ever existed. I think it's a little complex for you."_

"_Are you here just to insult me or do you have something useful to say?"_

_"I just think it's fun to torment you. Why? Don't you like my company?"_ Just what he needed, a pet voice. Like a drunk friend who just wants your money, they're always there and all they do is blabber and annoy.

Something else had drawn his attention in the bar, there were three shady looking men in leather armour wandering around the bar, and they seemed to be looking for someone. Two of them scanned the bar patrons while the third, probably the leader, whispered to the bartender. Orion saw the man slip the bartender a small pouch which he quickly slid under the bar itself. He then barely shifted his head in a nodding motion in Orion's direction. Just what he needed, somebody looking for his head. He slid a bolt out of the quiver in his leg and held it firmly in his left hand and pulled his back-up revolver from his pocket and held it in his right. He would use his crossbow but unfortunately he had removed it for comfort and convenience sake. The leader glanced over, saw Orion, and then waved his comrades over to the table. Orion would have just shot the three of them on the spot but he was unsure of their intentions. The leader grabbed a chair and slid it around to the other side of Orion's table while his two goons stood on either side of him, apparently trying to look intimidating.

"So you are the infamous Keagan that I've heard so much about." The leader stated in a mocking tone, obviously trying to upset Orion. Of course, the situation itself wasn't too good. This man knew Orion's last name, and that he had apparently done something. Orion found that in these situations it was best to just sit and wait for them to get to the point.

"What's the matter? Can't you speak? Or are you dumb in the head or something?" He asked rather annoyed by Orion's silent gaze.

"Fine. I don't need you to speak for me to tell you why I'm here." He paused and leaned in a little closer and placed his hands on the table "I know you work for Corrotto and-" Orion didn't let the man finish. He rammed the bolt up through the bottom of the table through the man's right hand and then pulled down, securing the barbs in his flesh. As the other goons were just starting to reach for their guns he jumped from his seat and shot them both in the chest. While leather can protect you from a great deal of things it cannot protect you from a bullet at point-blank range. Orion then aimed his revolver at the remaining man as he was reaching for his gun. The man froze with his hand on the grip of his pistol.

"Hand. On the table… **now**." Orion ordered the man in a very calm and plain tone. The man slowly raised his hand and placed it on the table next to his bleeding right hand. It was unfortunate that he happened to have been left-handed and not right.

"Tell me, who sent you?" Orion asked, hoping that the man would tell him and he could be done with this business. After a moment of some heavy breathing and sweating (probably due to the pain of having a barbed metal spike rammed through your hand) the man just shook his head side to side in the traditional 'no' fashion. Orion frowned at this, he should have known this wasn't going to be that simple. He holstered his gun and then picked up the chair he had knocked over and sat back down in it. He then as removed another bolt from the quiver on his leg and passed it over to his right hand.

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be. Just tell me who hired you." Orion asked the man again, sincerely wanting to be done with this conversation.

"Fuck-" the man's predictable insult was cut off by his screams of agony as Orion had shoved the other bolt through the man's left hand securing it to the table. As the man screamed and grunted in pain and agony and as his hands twitched and bled on the now splintered table Orion removed two more bolts and held them in both hands in plain view of the man.

"Now. Tell me who hired you. Or from now on every time you refuse to answer my questions I will stab another of your body parts."

"Ok! Ok… just please no more… I… I was hired by one of the candidates… O'Boyle was his name. Just please… no more…"

"Now was that so hard?" Orion asked as he stood and fastened his crossbow back to his right forearm, loading it with one of the bolts and then returning the last to the quiver. He grabbed his book and proceeded to leave when the man stopped him.

"Hey! Wait! What about me?" He pleaded, as if thinking that Orion would show mercy on him.

"Ah yes." Orion stated as he walked behind the man, pulled out his revolver, and shot him in the back of the head.

"Horace, clean up this mess." Orion said to the bartender as he walked out the door. Generally it was a bad idea to go search for someone in an establishment owned by his boss.

So word of Orion had already spread to O'Boyle; that wasn't good. Everywhere Orion went there always seemed to be someone gunning for his head. No matter who he worked for they always had enemies, and they always found out about Orion's work for said employer. He just had shitty luck. Regardless of how he found out, Orion was going to have to do something about O'Boyle. He doubted that he could kill the man, besides, even if he could, that would only cause more problems than solutions. That left him with two choices: run or die. Unfortunately, he had one more job to complete for Corrotto before he could skip town… again.


	2. Chapter 2: New Enterprises Yield P1

Chapter 2: New Enterprises Yield Valuable Returns (Part 1)

Orion stood within Corrotto's manor, waiting for whatever new assignment he was going to be sent out on. There were other members of Corrotto's organization there as well. Orion didn't know a lot them, and didn't want to. He knew of a few of them though, or more appropriately he had heard of a few of them. There was Bones, a man with a fairly unoriginal nickname but one that was well deserved. Bones enjoyed breaking bones of his enemies and then making weapons out of them once he killed them. He stood about six foot and usually wore an old tattered leather jacket that he adorned with armor plates made from (what else) bone. He kept his hair cut short enough to be considered a buzz cut but other than that he looked like any other gruff resident of the world today.

However, Bones was not the worst of the bunch by far. That title was held by Christopher Jenkins, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him… or by his name. The man was now one of Corrotto's right hand men and you rarely saw him. They say he likes to read ancient literature and listen to classical music. They said he wore a business suit and was bald, but then again, those are just rumors. Most people would think him soft… they would be wrong. Apparently, if Jenkins had a reason to kill you, whether it be bounty or personal, you would die, no if, ands, or buts about it. You would die, and you would never see it coming. The lucky ones die in horrible convulsions caused by poisons. The others… well let's just say they wished they'd been poisoned.

And of course, who could forget Roy. Roy was another of Corrotto's higher ups, not as high up as Jenkins, but still high enough to demand respect from the lower goons… of course it was either that he crushed your skull. You see, Roy was a behemoth of a man; there was no other way to describe him other than a very tall, very bulky, sack of flesh. If he wanted to he could easily crush your bones and probably rip off an arm or a leg if he worked at it. Of course, there karma seems to always have a trade off. Roy may be the strongest man for miles, but he's dumber than a stump.

The mansion itself was relatively well kept (considering it was over 150 years old), most of the walls were intact, the floors were kept clean, and furniture was in the best condition you could hope to find in this day and age. Surprisingly, Corrotto took good care of his goons or 'hired hands' as he preferred to say… or at least that's what his letters always said. Yes, letters. Nobody ever got in to see Corrotto unless it was something big or he thought you wouldn't live to the end of the day. When you got orders from him they were usually written on scraps of paper in some form of container. Anyway, those of his 'hired hands' that survived long enough were granted special privileges at the manor, generally it was a place to stay, occasionally you would get free food but that was becoming ever more scarce a reward. However, one thing that there was plenty of were drugs. Jet, Psycho, Voodoo, Buffout, you name it he had it. As a matter of fact that was the preferred method of payment. Since nobody was exactly the elected leader or mayor of Bucket Town (at least, not yet) there were no bans or laws against drugs so they still maintained their value on the street as well as with certain medical professionals.

"Alright, listen up!" one of Corrotto's officers said as he entered the room, holding a rolled up piece of paper in his hand. The man was dressed in an old business suit that had been cleaned recently, his hair was shaved close to his head, other than that he had a fairly average looking face with the usual amount of scars one could expect from a life of 'hard crime'. "Usually Corrotto would have individual assignments for you little shits, but this time there is one assignment… and it's voluntary." He said with a wicked smile. "_That can't be good."_ Orion thought with a certain degree of apprehension. "The latest assignment," he paused as he unrolled the paper and read it "holy shit." He whispered, obviously caught off guard by whatever was on the paper. "Is to raid O'Boyle's campsite."

_ "Well now. That __**is**__ interesting."_ Orion thought, _"This could solve several of my problems at once."_

"Now, as I said, this job is voluntary. To you ignorant fucks, this means that you get to choose whether you go or not." The officer stated very arrogantly to a group of less than intelligent goons in the corner. They sneered back at him, annoyed that they had to be content with making faces... lest they want to lose theirs. Orion continued to lean against the wall, content to **not** the first one to volunteer. After a few moments passed nobody had stepped forward, this, of course, was completely logical. Why volunteer for a suicide mission? The officer looked around in disappointment, he shook his head and then added "Corrotto was afraid this might happen, so he said if nobody stepped up immediately to inform you that Roy will be aiding you." Now that was definite incentive to volunteer for the job. Roy had quite the reputation after all. Several men looked up as Roy entered the room, his every step shaking the floorboards. On the opposite side of the room a trio of men were arguing amongst themselves, presumably trying to decide whether or not to take the job. One of the men threw his arms up in the arm and yelled "Fuck it!" as he turned away from the group and stormed off. The remaining two men made a few rude gestures and just shook their heads at him. "We're in." one of them finally said to the officer.

"Alright," he stated in acknowledgement as he made a note of it on the paper "anyone else?" he inquired to everyone in general. Orion glanced around and then raised his hand and gave a quick two-fingered shake and a nod. The officer nodded and made a note of it.

After a moment of relative silence the officer pinned the sheet up on the wall and made sure that everyone knew that if they changed their minds and decided to sign up to write down their name or have someone who could do it for them. Orion had turned to leave the manor when he heard the officer call his name and a few others. "Johnny, Keagan, and Oliver. Come with me. Boss has something for you!" Orion was curious about what he meant so he followed him. Of course, when someone said the boss had something for you, you didn't really have a choice in the matter. You followed and did what you were told.

The officer led Orion and the others out of the main room and up a staircase that lead into a large hallway area. There were a couple other goons roaming up and down the hallway, a couple of times the officer would stop and tell them that there was a new assignment in the foyer if they hadn't heard already. After they rounded a few more corners and went up and down a staircase or two they ended up in another hallway (that looked like every other hallway in the manor). "Alright. Now Corrotto thinks you three have potential. Now don't let that go to your head either. That just means that he thinks you might be useful." He said as they walked down the hallway. He stopped and pointed at several different rooms before continuing "These will be your rooms. Work it out amongst yourselves who gets what room." He smirked as he walked away. The two others immediately ran to the designated doors and flung them open, trying to get the best room for themselves. Orion opened the door that was as of yet, unopened, to reveal a fairly small room behind it that consisted of two halves. One half had a ratty old bed (if you could call it that, it was really more like a mattress on a metal frame) and a small cupboard type thing with a single drawer, and on top of that there was a randomly placed chair. The other half had a bathtub and toilet with a foldable plastic screen beside them, it even had a mirror. He walked over to the tub and examined the pipes that ran into it and turned the nozzle to open the pipes. He heard water begin to rush into the pipes. "Well, at least I'm lucky enough to have running water." He whispered right before the water that came out was an… interesting brown color with bits of sand and sediment in it. "…or not." He sighed.


End file.
